Disturbed Durmstrang
by Half-BPrincess
Summary: Fourth year, Triwizard Tournament, Hermione, out after curfew is happened upon by a pair of unscrupulous Durmstrang students... New friendships and alliances, dates and dances, training and battles. Voldemort won't know what hit him. WARNING: Dark themes from first chapter!
1. Chapter 1

November 15, 1994

Hermione swore to herself as she rushed back through the corridors. A glance at her watch revealed to her exactly _how _late she was running. Curfew had started ten minutes ago, and, while she had been out after curfew before, never on her own, never without Harry and Ron. She snorted as she thought of the redhead that had been her and Harry's best friend. Some usless lout he'd turned out to be, abandoning Harry when his name came out of the Goblet. And he'd left her in the lurch as Harry's support for the tournament. If Ronald bloody Weasley had still been talking to either of them then he'd have dragged Hermione out of the library before curfew, and she wouldn't be running back to Gryffindor tower in the dark!

She stumbled as she raced down the next staircase, barely catching herself on the cold stone of the handrail. Looking down at her feet as she carefully navigated her way off the staircase before it moved again Hermione saw the problem. She rolled her eyes and muttered another swear word, moving into the shadow of a suit of armour as she pulled the laces on her trainers as tight as they would go. She began to retie the other shoe as well; if one had come undone chances were the other would soon follow, and she'd rather not take a tumble down the stairs.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Hermione's head snapped upwards while she shrank further back into the alcove, behind the suit of armour. A voice spoke, the words indistinct and foreign-sounding. A deep laugh followed the words. Two figures stopped still just in front of her suit of armour. Hermione forced herself to keep her breathing even and shallow, it wouldn't do to get caught. Another string of foreign words and another laugh. Hermione backed up another pace, or at least she tried to. Her back foot hit the stone wall behind her with a distinct thump. Two pale faces turned towards her.

Considering the short distance now between them, Hermione could see both of them quite clearly, and the Durmstrang ensignia that adorned the front of both of their robes. They turned away again after a moment, and Hermione let out a small, shuddering breath. Both boys span towards her, wands outstretched. A tiny part of Hermione's mind admired their speed in drawing their wands, but the rest of her just shook in fear. She could see that they were both older than her, which seemed quite obvious when she recalled that Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had only brought students who were of age and who could compete in the tournament.

One of the two, the blond one, she noted absently, murmured something, pointing his wand at the base of the suit of armour. Hermione automatically looked for what he was pointing at, and let out a mental litany of every swear word she knew. There, just visible in the flickering candlelight, was the very end of her very pink untied shoelace. The other boy, his face hidden by the hood drawn up around his face laughed.

"Come out, come out, little girl." The blond called softly in heavily accented English. "I promise we won't bite..." His jovial tone and feral grin did little to assuage Hermione's fears, but she stepped forwards regardless, her quick mind having already come to the conclusion that there was no other way out. "Ah, there you are! Done with hiding?"

"I... I..." Hermione took a deep breath, hands fidgeting with the strap of her book bag, and drew on her Gryffindor courage. "I wasn't hiding."

"No?" The same boy asked, drawing closer to her. His wand was no longer in his hand, presumably it had been returned to wherever he had kept it before. "Just examining the wonderful armour that your school has on display? There might be a better time to do so than late at night."

"I was tying my shoes!" Hermione defended herself. "And then I didn't know if you were Filch!"

"Does this Filch speak German?" The hooded boy asked. His accent was different to his friend's, his English more cultured. Hermione turned to face him, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of his face.

"No, but I didn't hear you speak at first, I just heard your footsteps..."

"And then you heard us speaking and thought that you would... listen in?" His voice was quiet, so quiet that she had to strain to hear the hoarse whisper.

"I... No! I didn't... You, you were speaking German! I don't know German!"

"That's what you say, but how am I supposed to know that?" He stepped closer again, and Hermione caught a glimpse of dark, lank hair that swung free of the cloak.

"Edmund, hush." The blond breathed. Hermione flinched as she felt his breath ruffle the hair on the top of her head; she hadn't realised that he was so close. "Leave the poor girl alone. Can't you see that you're scaring her?"

"I'm not scared!" Hermione bit out, mentally rolling her eyes as her Gryffindor tendancies tumbled out.

"Of course you're not," the blond soothed, his hand coming up to slowly smooth up and down her arm. "Not that we'd say anything if you were. It must be frightening to be out so late, on your own with two older boys... How old are you, little one?"

"Fifteen."

"Ah, the sweet innocence of youth," The blond's hand drifted up to cup her cheek. "And so beautiful, don't you think, Edmund?"

Edmund's head twitched in something vaguely resembling a nod.

"I... I think I should go." Hermione pulled away from the blond's hand nervously.

"I think you should stay."

"No!" Hermione pulled away more firmly, taking a step back, away from them. "I'm leaving." She had barely turned before she found herself pushed back two steps as her back hit the wall. The hooded boy – Edmund – had crushed his body to her own. She could see up underneath his hood now, could see the stubble covering his jaw, his large Roman nose and the glint in his dark eyes. A quick nervous breath brought the smell of stale sweat and alcohol. She shivered.

"Are you scared?" He asked, warm breath against her ear. Hermione shook her head defiantly, unsure if she could trust her voice. She felt his smile against her cheek. "You should be."

And then he bit down hard on her ear.

Hermione's hands came up to push him away but in one deft movement he had pulled her wrists together above her head. Frantic kicking at his legs did nothing but to cause him to chuckle and insinuate himself between her thighs.

"I'm going to have fun with you."

His lips crashed onto hers, the hand not holding her wrists wrenched her jaw open to give entrance to the tongue that seemed to fill her whole mouth, thrusting down her throat until she could barely breathe and she thought she might pass out. Just when Hermione began to wonder if passing out would be a good thing his hand moved down to her left thigh, rubbing slowly.

Taking her chance, Hermione bit down as hard as she could on his tongue, feeling blood spill into her mouth she let go, spitting it back at him. Instead of the grunt of pain she had expected, a feral smile crossed his face. He leaned back in, biting fiercely at her clenched lips until Hermione was sure that she had bled more than he.

As he drew back and attacked her neck Hermione caught sight of his blood smeared face and shuddered. He looked almost happy.

His hand moved down to her knee then deftly slipped under the hem of the conservative skirt she'd worn moving swiftly upwards. His legs prevented her from closing her own as his hand grabbed at the side of her cotton knickers. Tears sprang up in Hermione's eyes as she struggled in vain.

"No, no, no...!" she sobbed, feeling tears slide down her face.

Edmund stiffened suddenly, as his friend called out sharply into the darkness.

"Who is there?" A whispered lumos and the corridor was lit up. Edmund looked over his shoulder and hissed darkly, pushing Hermione to the ground as he moved to stand next to his friend, wand raised.

"You'll let her go." Came a cold voice. It seemed almost familiar to Hermione, but her knees shook in relief at the clearly English accent her saviour displayed. The two boys in front of her blocked her defender, but she could see four other people further back, their faces just out of reach of the light.

"Why should I?" Edmund snarled. "Get your own Mudblood, if you want one."

"The girls of Hogwarts are off limits to you and yours, _fotze_."

Hermione heard both of her attackers suck in a breath of air. She didn't understand what had been said, but clearly it was offensive.

"She is _ours_," the first boy said darkly, gripping his wand more tightly. "We found her first, go find your own."

"Actually, I think you'll find that she _is_ mine, and she has been for a long time." Her protector took a step forwards, and Hermione's eyes widened as she took in his face. "On your feet, Granger, and to me. I haven't all night."

Hermione's body obeyed without thinking, stumbling to her feet, grasping the outstretched hand and letting herself be pulled safely to his side.

"Uruqhart, Vaisey, Zabini, Nott, see these two back to their ship." Hermione let him curl his arm around her shoulders, burying her face into the crook of his neck. She felt him jerk his head. "I'm sure the pair of you can behave."

With her eyes scrunched shut, Hermione only heard the footsteps echoing down the corridor away from them.

"They're gone now," His voice was soft now, and the hand that wasn't around her shoulders stroked her hair gently away from her face. "It's okay, you can come out. I promise it's okay."

"Wh... Why?" Hermione hated how weak her voice sounded.

"Why what? Why did they try to...? Or why did I stop them?" He asked, still stroking her hair. "They've been going after lots of girls ever since they got here, for the first. Three of them caught up with Astoria Greengrass, she's a..."

"Second year Slytherin," Hermione finished breathily. "Daphne Greengrass' sister?"

"Yes. Well, Nott and Zabini walked into them, fought them off long enough for Astoria to get back to the common room. We... we came to help, but we were too late."

"That's why they missed so many classes last month?" She asked, face turned up against his neck.

"And that's why three members of Durmstrang still aren't back." Hermione didn't think she was imagining the tone of pride in his voice. "Ever since then, we've been patrolling in groups. We've been trying to warn other houses, get them to protect you girls like we are, but, you know how it is."

"No one ever trusts a Slytherin, huh?"

"No." He replied shortly, stopping his stroking. "But maybe you can help me convince the Gryffs, eh?" He chuckled then, deep, warm and melodious. "Speaking of Gryffs, you need to be back in your tower, little lion."

"Don't- don't leave me!" Hermione hissed, clutching at his shirt even more tightly. "Please, I-I-"

"I'm not leaving you." He hummed. "I'm not letting you go until you're safe inside the lions den, with Potter and Weasley fussing over you, okay?" Hermione nodded against his chest, forcing herself to breathe calmly as he slowly led her along the route that led back to her common room.

"Why did you save _me_?" Hermione whispered as the Fat Lady came into view. "You don't like me, I know what you think of-" His finger pressed against her lips, and he sounded amused as he knocked on the portrait.

"It's just like I told those two, you're mine, obviously."

And then the portrait opened, Harry and Ron spilling out of it almost immediately.

"Malfoy!" Ron roared, drawing his wand and growling fiercely at her protector.

"What have you done to Hermione?" Harry hissed lowly, pulling his bushy-haired friend out of the blond's arms, and behind him.

"It's not what it-"

And then Ron started firing hexes.


	2. Chapter 2

November 15, 1994

Hermione supposed she should consider herself lucky that at least Harry had stopped hexing Malfoy when she got in between them. The _Relashio_ that Ron had hit her with, however, still stung.

"Hermione, what are you doing?!" Ron shouted, clearly still enraged. Harry was silent, eyes darting between Malfoy and Hermione, taking note of the shield that had expanded to encompass her, as well as her bedraggled state, she was sure. Looking down at herself, she shuddered.

Her blouse had been ripped open – when the bastard had done that, she couldn't say, and the tights she wore were also torn, with bloody scratches peppering her thighs. Reaching a hand up to her neck she pressed lightly on the tender flesh, sure that dark bruises lay under her fingertips. Her face, she knew, was covered in blood from both his biting of her lip, and her attempt to stop him by biting through his tongue. All in all, she supposed her appearance matched how she felt.

"Explain." Harry said quietly, ignoring Ron's mumbled rant.

Hermione looked to Malfoy for support, and found herself comforted by the small smile and nod he gave her. Turning to Harry, Hermione opened her mouth to speak.

Instead, she burst into tears.

Cradled as she was against Malfoy's chest, she couldn't see the looks exchanged by the three boys above her head. When it became apparent that Hermione was neither about to stop crying nor would she let go of the Slytherin, Harry jerked his head towards the common room.

"It wasn't me, that I can swear to." Were the first words the blonde spoke as an enraged Neville Longbottom attempted to launch himself at him. "You know that; think about it. She wouldn't be attached to me if I had done anything to hurt her."

Grudgingly, the gaggle of Gryffindors subsided, allowing Malfoy to guide Hermione over to a free sofa where she promptly curled into his chest. She was startled out of her sobs a short while later by the incredulous shout of '_You did what?'_ followed swiftly by a sharp slap. Jerking herself upright she stared at the face of her startled savior.

"I would _not _have guessed that Weaselette would slap the Weasel." He told her softly, one hand still gently rubbing her back. Hermione smiled softly back at him. Their moment of peace, however, was short-lived as Ginny – or the 'Weaselette' – noticed them and ran over. Hermione winced for a moment, if Ginny got going she was worse than her mother, but instead of the tirade she had expected on her cuddling with Malfoy, she was wrapped in a tight hug.

"My brother isn't going to leave your side from now on, okay?" The redhead mumbled into her ear. "And if I have anything to say about it, neither will Harry. They're going to keep you safe, or I'll kill the pair of them myself. You hear me?" Without stopping to wait for an answer, she turned to Malfoy. "As for you, I don't know what, or who you saved her from, but I'm grateful." She gestured out at the rest of the common room, and the Gryffindors surrounding them. "We're _all _grateful. Thank you, Malfoy."

Hermione felt, rather than saw Draco nod in acknowledgement as Ginny squeezed herself in, on Hermione's other side.

"So, er... What actually happened?" Ron broke the silence, causing Hermione to tense up again. This time, however, she had two strong presences at her side, and although not the two she was used to, they helped nonetheless.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley you are an insensitive prat!" Ginny shook her head in bewilderment. "How on Earth we're related, I'll never know."

"No, Ginny, he's, he's right. I- You- You need to know." Hermione stuttered out.

"I can tell them, if you'd rather?" Malfoy offered, his voice pitched low enough that only those closest to them could hear. "You could let Weaselette here take you upstairs, and I'll talk to them." Hermione smiled as she heard Ginny's audible 'harrumph' at the Weaselette comment, but shook her head.

"No, I need to get this out, I think." She took a deep breath, and pulled away from the blond's hold. "I was coming back from the library." She started, and was glad to feel two hands sneak across to hold hers as the entire common room seemed to lean forwards. "It was after curfew – I shouldn't have stayed so long, but I was looking things up for Harry. I stopped to tie my shoes, and then, and then..." Ginny's arms wrapped around her as she began to sob again.

"And then two Durmstrang students showed up." Malfoy continued smoothly, talking to the common room at large. "They had her cornered when we arrived, and she looked pretty much as she does now, though from the amount of blood on the one closest to her, I think it's fair to say she put up a good fight."

"Who's we?" Harry asked, his voice quiet.

"Myself and a group of Slytherins. We've been running patrols around the castle after curfew as much as we can for the last two weeks. Three of the bastards caught a third year Slytherin. She wasn't as lucky as Granger." Malfoy said shortly, his face as pale as Hermione had ever seen it. "We tried to get some of the other houses to help, but Ravenclaw were pretty against it, and Hufflepuff wouldn't speak to any of us."

"Didn't think _we _would have helped?" Came the arrogant voice of Cormac McLaggen from somewhere near the back of the room.

"We tried. Thought Prefects would be the best choices, but after what Towler did to Derrick and Bole we thought it would be better not to try approaching anyone else."

"Hey, I did-" Towler's voice was cut off by a sharp slapping sound.

"Don't expect to have your badge this time tomorrow, Kenneth." Patricia Stimpson, the other Prefect said coldly. "I'm reporting you to McGonagall in the morning. You're not worthy of being called a Gryffindor. How could you ignore _this_?"

"I never thought tha-" Again, Towler was cut off.

"No, Kenneth, you didn't think. _That _is blatantly clear." Patricia's voice was icy. "Go on, get out. Don't think you're staying to hear this, and don't think you're gonna' be any kind of helpful. If I get my way, you'll be suspended." A path to the boys dormitory cleared as a scowling Towler pushed his way through the crowd. Silence reigned until he'd left their sight, and Patricia Stimpson had drawn a silencing ward at the base of the stairs.

The group in the centre of the room stayed quiet as an angry buzz spread throughout the rest of the room. Harry and Ron shared a meaningful look, and nodded before Harry received another nod from Malfoy. When Harry stood, hand outstretched to his former rival, the noise dwindled down.

"Malfoy, I'm in." He looked over his shoulders at the eager faces behind him. "The whole of Gryffindor is in." Malfoy stretched up to grasp the darker boy's hand.

"Thank you." He said solemnly. Harry shook his head, nodding almost imperceptibly at Hermione, still wrapped in Ginny's protective embrace.

"No, thank you." He nodded again, letting go of Malfoy's hand, and turned to the rest of the House. "We're going to get these bastards." He said darkly. "Every last one." A cheer of agreement rang out around the room and Harry smiled. "But not tonight. We're going to do this properly, which means that starting tomorrow we're going to have a patrol schedule. If you want to volunteer, give your names to me or-" He craned his neck, and received a nod. "Or give them to Patricia. Who will probably keep better track of who's up for it or not." Patricia moved through the crowd to stand by Harry's side.

"But for now, everybody needs to head up to their dorms. I'm not taking any names that are younger than Fourth Year, or have less than Exceeds Expectations in Defence, so go and think hard and sleep." Patricia's strict conditions had more than one Gryff wishing they'd paid more attention in lessons, but for the most part they headed upstairs, leaving only the Fourth Years, and Ginny. Harry dropped forward to one knee in front of Hermione, taking her hand in his own.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am that I wasn't there tonight, Hermione, that we weren't there, but never again, d'you hear me? You will never be alone again, I swear." At her slight, tentative nod, he jumped up and wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his head into her hair. "Now," he started, voice suspiciously thick. "The girls are gonna' take you upstairs, get you cleaned up and we're going to walk Malfoy back, okay?" Harry let go slowly, looking straight into Hermione's eyes, and he smiled a little at her shaky nod.

Lavender and Parvati surged forwards, embracing Hermione together, and, along with Ginny, they helped her up and towards the girls stairs, only stopping when Hermione turned back, voice thin and reedy.

"Harry?" She croaked, barely more than a whisper. "Don't hurt him."

"I swear." Harry promised solemnly, watching as the girls of their house held tightly to each other, together. The group of boys stood still and solemn, watching as their friend was half-carried upstairs.

"I'll be fine without an escort." Malfoy said softly. "You should stay here, with her." Harry shook his head.

"I'm not letting you walk this castle alone, particularly not after you've pissed off a bunch of those Durmstrang bastards. We'll go together." Harry looked to the other Gryffindors. "Right guys?"

"Plus, you heard Hermione. She'd kill us if we let anything happen to you now." Ron smiled crookedly. "And you don't mess with Hermione when she's mad."

"We should get moving." Harry said simply, noticing Seamus stifling a yawn and then struggling to contain his own. "Listen, Malfoy, you come here after dinner tomorrow, yeah? We'll work out a proper schedule then."

"That'll give us time to put feelers out to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw too." Neville nodded in agreement.

"That should be... adequate." Malfoy nodded hesitantly. "Would it be... acceptable to you should I bring others? I don't make our schedule, or-"

"Bring them." Harry replied with a nod, leading the way out of the portrait. "It'll work out, someway or another."

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

**A/N: **Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me... Pretty much everything has been updated today, so check out the new installments of everything else too!


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